Sick Cycle Carousel
by HarryPotterCat
Summary: Hugo's always hated Lily with a burning passion. She pushes him over the edge, annoys him no end. But then, in the midst of all the hatred, Molly uncovers something about Lily that will change Hugo's perspective forever. Lily/Hugo. Oneshot.


**Sick Cycle Carousel**

"Lily! GET OUT OF MY ROOM!"

I stopped dead in the middle of my bedroom door, watching my least favourite cousin flit past me, giggling all the way. God, I hated it when my elder sister had a girly sleepover in the holidays. Roxanne was bad enough, always pulling pranks and acting less like a respected young woman than she really should at that age. But Lily ... Lily was beyond words.

"I'm going!" she cried, her face as red as her hair through laughter. She could have been really pretty if she wanted to be, with those almond-shaped brown eyes, smattering of freckles and layered red hair. But instead she shoved her hair back in a loose bun and wore heavily framed glasses that almost hid her eyes.

But, hey, it's not my problem. I don't give a damn what she looks like - to me, she'll always be ... _Lily_.

You're probably wondering why I hate her so much, aren't you?

Hate's a strong word, you say. I know. That's why I used it.

It all started back when we were seven. That long ago, you ask sarcastically? In all honesty, she's been annoying me all my life. But age seven was when it really started to hit me that I disliked her.

We were sitting in her eldest brother's tree house - everybody seems to have had a tree house in their garden at one point in their lives, haven't they? - talking about our families and sisters and brothers and cousins ... and Lily, completely out of the blue, turns to me and says,

"You've got dirt on your cheek, Hugh."

Now, I would like to point out that we had just been discussing at great length James's crush on Roxanne, so as you can imagine it was a complete shock when she said that to me. Naturally, I freaked out. Any boy in my position would have done the same.

"What?" I shrieked, standing up, so close to the open door of the tree house. "Where?"

Even then, I hated things to be out of place. For me, everything has to be perfect. Neat and tidy, not a thing wrong with the appearance of anything. My books have always been in perfect condition, stacked precisely three centimetres from the end of my desk. My pencils are regularly sharpened by my sister - because of her constant usage of them to sketch some landscape or other; and my hair is always perfectly combed, my shirt tucked in and my shoes shining. Obsessive Compulsive, you diagnose at once. Not really, I just don't like things to be ... wrong.

"Just there, Hugo ..."

Lily had reached out a finger, covered in dripping blue paint from one of the art sets stuffed up in the tree house, and carefully smudged it across my left cheek.

And the next thing I knew, I was waking up in hospital with three cracked ribs, a broken leg and a sprained wrist to boot. I reckon Lily pushed me. She, however, claims that after she - she - _destroyed_ my cheek, I took one horrified step backwards and ... splat

She's always said that last 'splat' with a large amount of relish in her voice.

I didn't speak to her again for three whole years for that. Pushing me out of a _really_ high tree house was bad enough, but befouling my face ... was unforgiveable.

Unfortunately, I had to start speaking to her again once we were eleven. I know, right? Bummer.

The post had arrived, what, four years ago? I was sitting in the kitchen with Rosie and our mother, debating the pros and cons of Muggle transport over broomsticks.

Mum was all for Muggle transport; Rose was supporting broomsticks. I was pointing out that it didn't particularly matter, as long as you got there eventually, but to be fair Apparating was the most reasonable mode of transport.

Three short raps on the window signalled that mail had arrived - Mum had walked into the kitchen and had undone the catch of the window; two large tawny owls swooping in immediately. One was for Rose, giving her the required booklist for her second year at Hogwarts. Mine was the first letter from my present school I had ever received, stating that I had a place in the school and giving me details of arrival and the like.

I had framed my acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Lily, however, threw hers in the trash as soon as she'd got her father to read it for her.

So there we were, the Potters and the Weasleys, two chaotic families standing in Platform 9 3/4 on September 1st. James, Lily's eldest brother, had ran off to join his crowd of mayhem-causing lunatics; Rose and Albus had walked away together to talk to Teddy Lupin, who was there with his fiancée Victoire; leaving me alone with Lily.

"I hope we're in Gryffindor!" she had said excitedly. I couldn't help noticing the 'we'.

"I beg to differ," I'd muttered drily, but my words were lost underneath the loud call from the train driver.

"Everybody on board!" the man had yelled, and I had grabbed my luggage, hugged my parents goodbye and jumped on the Hogwarts Express. I raced down a corridor, praying to Dumbledore that if only I could find a compartment before Lily got on the train I would be spending the entire ride in well-earned peace and quiet.

Unfortunately, there would be no point in this tale if I could say to you that yes, I found a compartment and hence never spoke to Lily again. Which is a pity, I must admit ... I'd quite have liked that version of events to have happened.

But no, every compartment was full: seventh-year Slytherins aiming venomous glares at me as I passed them; my sister and her group of second-year friends chatting animatedly; James lounging by the dining room with Fred, Roxanne, Louis and Lorcan; Lorcan's twin brother Lysander shooting them worried glances every so often, not wanting to be picked on once more ...

Nope, everywhere was full, except for one compartment...

Which could mean only one thing.

"Hi, Hugh!" beamed Lily brightly, pushing her way through Fred and Louis to enter my compartment. "Gosh, the train's full, isn't it?"

I said nothing, just looked out of the window at the countryside rolling past. Rosie, I knew, would be drawing this view out on fresh art paper this very second.

I'm not entirely sure how, but Lily took my stony silence as an invitation to sit down in _my_ compartment.

"If you weren't in Gryffindor ..." she started, and I groaned. I most certainly did _not_ want a deep conversation with Lily about "what if"s. That could wait. Until our deathbeds.

"Look, Lily," I cut across her massively. "Can we not talk about this?"

She had eyed me expertly, those deep brown eyes taking in every inch of my appearance.

"Of course," she said at once after a second's examination. "I thought you'd be anxious about starting school ... and I was right, wasn't I?"

I heaved a sigh. This was likely to continue for a _while_.

And it did, from the beginning of the train ride right until we walked through the doors to the Great Hall for the first time, waiting to be Sorted.

The Sorting ceremony. Lily was called up before me, the old battered hat shouting "GRYFFINDOR!" before it even touched her messy red hair. She had skipped over to join James, Lysander and the other Gryffindors; Rose and Albus exchanging a disappointed look over at the Ravenclaw table.

My name was soon called. I walked up to Professor McGonagall, a different kind of confident to the way Lily had been. She was easygoing, unfazed by everything; I was sitting down on the stool calmly, knowing that whatever happened, there was at least a three in four chance I could avoid Lily for the best part of seven years.

The Sorting Hat went on over my head, the rim dropping down over my blue eyes. I waited, listening to it muse over my inner qualities.

_This is fun_, I thought sarcastically; and then, _Oh Voldemort. I'm turning into Lily_.

_Please not Gryffindor. I'll do anything. I'll - I'll arrange my books messily ... I'll keep my shirt untucked for a whole day ... Please, not Gryffindor._

"The house you belong in is ..." said the Sorting Hat finally, my fingernails digging in to the edge of the stool. "HUFFLEPUFF!"

I breathed a huge sigh of relief, threw the hat off and almost ran to sit next to Louis Weasley and Lorcan Scamander. I grinned over to my sister, feeling a huge rush of happy emotion. In fact, happy didn't even cut it. I was on top of the whole bloody world.

I could see Lily watching me, and as I looked at her she gave me an exaggerated sad face. I snickered, reaching for some chips.

I would never _ever_ have to voluntarily hang out with Lily again!

Of course, I was wrong about _that_. Not only did the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors have both Herbology and Charms together, but somehow, between then and now, we became ... almost ... acquaintances.

Don't ask me how. Believe you me, I never wanted this to happen.

But it did.

She still annoys me, still pushes me to the limit. I still dislike her. But it's a strange sort of dislike - the kind of dislike that occurs when you know you're supposed to love someone, be they a partner, sibling or messy-haired cousin, but every time you see their face you feel an inner surge of frustration.

It's a strange way of saying you know you're supposed to love them, isn't it? You're supposed to love them.

"I HATE YOU!" I screamed after Lily as she ran out of my bedroom.

We're back to the present day, by the way, in case you're confused.

Lily didn't reply, just laughed loudly as she went back into Rosie's room.

I sat down at my desk, staring up at the clock. Only thirteen more hours until I got my house back.

"Hugo?"

God, I _hated _Rose having a social life. I never got a minute's peace.

I opened my door, staring resignedly at the ceiling.

"Come in, Lily ... heaven knows you'd barge your way through my door even if it was guarded by twenty man-eating trolls."

"Er, Hugo, I'm not Lily ..."

I looked down.

Molly was standing there, amused smile on her pretty face. She was a year above Rose, Albus and Scorpius, one year below Roxanne, James and his best friend Lysander.

"Oh." I stood there like an idiot, blocking my bedroom from her. "Hi, Molly."

"Hi. Can I come in?" she peered around my figure, trying to see if I was busy with any schoolwork or the like. I wasn't - the floor was perfectly empty.

I stepped aside, and she walked past me and sat down underneath the window.

"What brings you here?" I asked, leaning against my bedpost, surveying her suspiciously. Molly and I had never talked that much - she was one of the popular Gryffindor girls; I was simply a respected Hufflepuff boy.

"You'd better sit down," she advised carefully. I ignored her and stayed silent. "It's Lily."

I groaned inwardly. What had she done now? I was sick of having to pick up the pieces, every time she blew something up with James or said something vicious to a first-year.

"What about her?"

Molly bit her lip for a moment, doing nothing but stare at me through her green eyes. I hastened to repeat the question.

"She - she ..." Molly faltered, looking me right in the eye. "She has a boyfriend, Hugo."

I stared at her, my breath momentarily stolen away.

"She - Lily - what?" I choked.

"It's a boy called Cedric Davies ... he's in your year, I think, Hufflepuff?"

Of course he was. I sat next to him in Transfiguration. I ate lunch with him every Tuesday after Charms club. I shared a dormitory with him.

I'd talked to him about Lily. I'd told him everything about her - from her messy hair right down to how I feel about her. How much I dislike her, how much I wish she'd leave me alone.

And all this time he was using me to get to her.

All right, maybe I'm being a tad dramatic. But I don't care. This was - this was new. I'd never felt this stunned before, never felt this sheer ... _horror_. Not in this way.

It was like how Rose's romance novels describe the heroine after she finds out the love of her life has dumped her/got a new girlfriend/has been left soulless after a Dementor attack. Or all of the above put together.

But this wasn't that scenario. I wasn't in love with Lily - I disliked her way too much. She hadn't left me for someone else - we'd not been going out. As for Dementors ... set a Dementor on Lily and the only thing in pain would be the Dementor itself.

I smiled to myself, and then remembered what had brought me on to Dementors in the first place.

Lily ... and Cedric. Lily Davies.

I hated how much their names fitted together, how his surname matched her first perfectly.

I hated how I knew Cedric. I _knew_ him. I had told him how much I disliked my cousin, and he had laughed along with me, not knowing or caring that the girl he had been laughing about would be the one he'd date in the future.

I hated how I cared so much about Lily going out with Cedric.

No, that's not correct. Of course I didn't care that Lily was going out with Cedric. Not in _that_ way.

Despite disliking Lily, I still wanted the best for her. I knew that Cedric wasn't that.

I knew that if anyone around here could be perfect with Lily, it would be me. Years of just putting up with all her mayhem and breezing through life with her, sometimes unwontedly, by my side, flashed before my eyes.

I watched her laugh as she escaped from my bedroom, escaped from our childhood securities. I watched as she ran towards Cedric, got married to Cedric, and had a family with Cedric.

I shook my head. That was not going to happen. Not if I had anything to do with it.

"Lily!" I yelled. Molly had left my room already, perhaps had gone when I was silent and unresponsive. Even though she had a beautiful exterior, you had to give Molly some credit - she certainly was smart. "I need to talk to you!"

I stormed down the corridor between my bedroom and Rosie's, heading towards the loud waves of laughter and shrieking that were echoing form behind the oak door. I banged on it impatiently, and after a few seconds it opened, Molly's head poking out.

"I need to speak to Lily," I said, calm despite the storm that was going on in my head.

Molly gave me a slightly knowing look but said nothing, retreating back inside and closing the door. I waited silently, listening to the low murmurs of the girls.

After a moment the door opened again, and Lily slipped out. I had not moved backwards as she did so - meaning that she had lean on the back of the door to leave even a few centimetres gap between us.

She was so close ... and yet, so far.

"Hi, Lily," I mumbled. My whole effort had been towards reaching Rose's bedroom and asking for Lily - I had not yet thought out what I would do when my cousin appeared. "I, er, need to speak to you about something."

She tucked a strand of her behind her ear, her elbow grazing my shoulder. I found myself thinking that I could have done that myself, but...

No, I told myself. Stop this right now. You hate Lily, remember?

God, I hear you say. Hugo Weasley is so messed up. First he tells us he hates the grounds his cousin walks on, the next he wants to be acting out a scene from his sister's books right out there in the hallway -

No. I'm not like that. I wouldn't think that way about Lily.

"Sure," said Lily cheerily. "Whatever you want."

She had no idea. She didn't know that just a few minutes ago I was standing in my bedroom, screaming hatred after her retreating back, all the while wishing that...

Wishing what? I didn't know she was going out with Cedric at that moment. I can't use that as an excuse.

"Hugo?"

I stared at Lily, stared right into those almond-shaped brown eyes of hers. I've told you this before - if she tried, Lily could look pretty.

But to me, I realised, she was already beautiful.

"I love you."

Oops. That didn't happen, okay? I'm not that stupid, honestly. I didn't just say 'I love you' to my cousin who, for the record, I hate. No, in reality I talked to Lily, she went off with Cedric and we never spoke again. Wahoo. How it should be.

All right. Maybe I did say those three little words to my cousin. Maybe I did just spin you some fake story in a line or two about what 'really' happened. Maybe I did stand there looking like an idiot, exactly three centimetres away from Lily - the way I like everything to be - while she just looked at me.

"Okay."

I stared at her, hardly knowing what just happened.

"Lily ..." I swallowed nervously. "I just told you that I _love_ you."

"I know," she shrugged, a hint of a smile playing with the edges of her perfect mouth. "And I said okay."

I looked at her in sheer disbelief. There she was, being ... well, being Lily, I suppose.

And I loved her for it.

"I love you," I said again, trying it out properly. She laughed softly.

"Okay," she repeated. "You are a loser, Hugh, you know that, right?"

I knew it.

"I mean it," Lily continued, as we ventured towards the unknown, "you are a loser."

Lily had watched both of her brothers have relationships, watching from the sidelines, jinxing the girls when the relationships ended. But never, until, what, a few minutes ago? had it ever come to my attention that she was living that life for herself too. But this was different. She knew it, I knew it ... perhaps Cedric knew it, as at this moment he laughed with his brother over scoring the prettiest girl in the year. Lily and I ... were different. And I realised, as we stood there outside my sister's quiet bedroom, that she was just as lost as I was in that moment. She didn't know how to deal with this new instalment. Neither did I.

It was for that reason that I leant forward, broke the three centimetre gap for the first time in my life, and kissed her. It wasn't because I was in love with her. It wasn't because she made me so mad sometimes that I could cry. It wasn't because maybe I knew I had loved her all along, underneath the facade of hatred. It wasn't because I was jealous of Cedric. It wasn't because I finally wanted to see what it was like to walk in the sun instead of sitting in the shade. It was because, despite our differences - hair colour, appearance, Hogwarts house, personality clashes - we were the same. We were both lost, in that moment, both unsure of life and love and what the bloody hell was going on.

So I kissed her. And this may sound stupid, but it really was perfect.

It was like everything falling into place, everything coming clean.

Although I suppose, in my lame attempt of joking, that for me it should be clean_er_.

She returned my pressure, leaning towards me; I had one hand on the small of her back and the other in her beautiful, messed up red hair, and it was perfect.

The epitome of perfect.

It was like snow before footsteps; like fireworks exploding in the dark sky, suddenly casting everything you ever knew into a brighter, more brilliant light; it was like planet Earth before people; it was like everything you've ever heard of in one moment in time.

"I love you," I murmured, my mouth - let's say it together, yeah? - _three centimetres_ away from hers. She laughed softly, her brown eyes half closed, but still, somehow, surveying me expertly.

"I'll talk to Cedric," she said finally, seriously, calmly.

"Yes."

"I'll tell him about this."

"Yes."

"I'll explain to him that me and him ... him and I ... can't ..."

"Yes," I said quietly.

"Say something other than 'yes'," Lily said softly.

I laughed, every inch of my mind loving her more than is humanely possible.

"I love you."

She laughed out loud, and it was brilliant, shocking, a jolt back to reality. It was Lily.

"I know," she grinned.

We were quiet for a moment, just drinking in the other's face, but something - something odd - occurred to me, a thought that had crept up on me like a coyote stalking its prey.

"Is it just me ..." I said slowly, "or is it awfully quiet in Rosie's room?"

Lily stopped, her head inclined slightly towards my sister's door. She then stared at me, half horrified, half amused.

"I'll kill her," she offered, shaking her beautiful hair wearily.

"Yes."

"Oh, don't start that again!" yelled Roxanne, banging open the door. Lily, who had been leaning against it, promptly fell into Roxanne, dragging me with her.

"We heard everything," said Rose, beaming fit to burst. I momentarily thought that it wouldn't just be Lily who would be murdering my sister today, but then forgot it as Molly spoke up.

"We talked to Cedric."

Lily, who had started to stand up with me, both of us holding on to the other for support, gaped.

"You what?"

"Well," Rosie corrected, "Dominique did. She's better at sounding like you, and Victoire told her what to say."

I looked over to the two blonde girls, the younger of the two, Dominique, holding a Muggle telephone receiver in her hand. Victoire winked at me, and I blushed, suddenly remembering what was going on. I looked around the room.

"Thank you," Lily whispered. I looked at her instead, finding that once I did so I couldn't stop. Roxanne physically positioned herself between us so the same wouldn't happen to Lily, too.

"It was a breeze," said Rosie, beaming at us both. "But you should probably talk to Cedric yourself, you know."

"Yes," I said, not caring that I had already said the same word four times before within the last ten minutes. I really, really did not care. I knew that we'd talk to Cedric, Lily and I, together.

'Lily and I' ... I love that phrase. I love her.

Our sick cycle carousel, starting with severely short-lived love at the age of about one; ending with Love, the Real Thing ... and hatred filling the years in between.

I wouldn't change it for the world.


End file.
